Heroes
by kingcobley135
Summary: Story of the adventures after a spy is pushed out of retirement after being betrayed by the Government he served
1. Episode 1: Courir

He walked briskly down the path with her. France was beautiful and he had always wished to view it; and he had the perfect place: the top of the Eiffel Tower with _her_. "_Comment allez-vous_?" She murmured from the insides of his arm.

"_Beaux, Mon Cher_," he replied just as low. Although not French, he spoke impeccable French. She gazed into his eyes and he hers. He nearly drowned in her deep crystalline blue oceans. He placed his hands onto her inner thighs and rubbed them up and down, slowly, and sensually. "_Oh vous méchant homme_!" She jokingly slapped his hand then grabbed hold of his face and kissed him, passionately. Their tongues were like two fish swimming against the streams. Her back was arched slightly over the railing of the Tower. His hand moved from her lower back onto her left butt cheek. She giggled and gave him small, light kisses all over his face.

The sun was setting in her background. He looked up to induct the entirety of the beautiful situation into his senses. At this point nearly every sense was working. Sight: her and the sunset. Taste: her mouth, her sweat, her body. Smell: her sweet lusty smell, the lush foliage, the sweet dusk autumn night. Hear: the people about, the birds squawking, her muffled panting. Feel: her beautiful body, every curve. "_Beau Mon Cher_!" She squealed turning around. His arms melded to the curves of her sides and legs. She gripped onto his hands and twiddled with his fingers. For the moment all the world blended to their whim. _If _only that were the case; by God how they wish it were that. Reality was unavoidable for this tragic couple. "_Je t'aime…_" she uttered silently into his ear. "_Je t'aime Mon Cher; je t'aime_."

A sudden flash and bang a young woman fell over the railing of the Tower. Blood painted the railing and the metallic walkway. They were both withdrawn from the situation by the horrific occurrence. A man stepped up the stairs and took in the view of the event he just put into action. The gun swung melancholically at his side. "_Je suis désolé_…" he whimpered. He turned his head toward the couple. His eyes were worn, either from crying or lack of sleep. "_Calmez-vous et de bassier son arme_," he said to the killer. He shook his head solemnly, and then brought the gun up.

"This is unforgivable…" he said in English, "_C'est impardonnable_." She shook in his arms. He took her and put her behind him. "You speak English?" Nod.

"Why did you do this?" He repeated the same phrase. "_L'amour est un mensonge qui est impardonnable_." He just stared at the killer. "… No that's a lie." He chuckled.

"Naïve man, oh so _Naïf_." She shook on his shoulder. She was so frightened that he might die that she couldn't control her shaking. "_Menteur_!_ Menteur_!" Liar! Liar! He shouts at the killer. He chuckled, "I speak truth, I may be a lot of things _monsieur_, but a liar I am not." The killer brought the gun up to meet the sight of the man.

"She hurt you?"

"_Oui, monsieur, oui_." The man shook his head and turned to his girl, then back. "I know about hurt… but not from this woman. She's given me more than I could ever want or need; she means everything to me… and if you just turn and walk away I know you'll find yours too."

He shook his head once again, "_Naïf_… _je ne vais pas survivre à cette_." The killer brought the gun up. Within the split second it took him to bring it up the man had removed his own gun from his belt and shot him in the throat. The killer dropped the gun onto the metal walkway; it bounced then slid off the Tower. The killer dropped to the ground grasping at the gaping hole in his throat. He fingered it gently as he attempted to swallow; it was pointless, he was slowly losing consciousness. "_Je suis désolé monsieur_." He apologized to the man he had just killed he'd always had a strange way to deal with things. He shot his hand up to his head then down and side to side, "… _In nomine Patris, ET Filii, ET Spiritus Sancti_." He removed the gun one last time to put the poor dying man out of his misery. He shot him directly in the face and he slumped to the side; the gunshot wouldn't have been heard by anyone other than the two up there. He shook his head. "Forgive me Father."

He turned back to his love that was standing in pure shock at the dead man that lies on the ground, _killed_ by _her _love. She shuddered and her teeth chattered. He replaced the gun into his belt and walked over to her; she backed away. "_Qui êtes-vous_?" He rubbed his head, "_Je suis désolé Mon Cher, je t'aime, je t'amie_…" She continued to back away, breathing heavily, "_Qui êtes-vous_?" He wiped off his mouth, sweat drenched his lips, and he was getting nervous. That's when he noticed the blinking ants that were below him; sirens blaring like the bells of _Notre Dame_. "_Merde… _Sweetie, I'm—was—a contract killer for the American Government. I, unfortunately, cannot be seen—per se, because in essence I'm a spy." She stared at him, crystalline oceans beating down upon his own. "_Nous devons quitter ma chérie_."

"_Non_." The simple no shattered his soul and world with a crushing blow very few have come to know. "Alright, I understand. I have lied for the entire time I've known you." He hung his head solemnly before swinging it side to side, tears dropping. He loved her, but there was no way he could just throw away his life and everything he'd worked for if she didn't want to be with him. "… _Je t'amie Mon Cher_," he whimpered.

He ran to the railing on the adjacent side then placed his foot on one of the lower bars on the railing. The walkway clinked with every hit of his Converse on the metal. A sudden urge overcame him, one that he'd never known before; _as if_ he were leaving his heart on the walkway. He turned back to her and looked at her; even ten feet away her eyes were as big as the oceans that he saw them as. "I… love you, twice." She spoke. Her English was awkward, he wasn't used to it but… he loved it. She popped up her fore and middle finger into that of a two to correspond to the twice (or two as she'd meant it to be) and smiled very gently. He held up the same thing; then jumped.

He fell down toward the ground then produced a gizmo that shot a grappling hook out and he swung down to safety; the cops saw but they wouldn't make it down in time to catch him.

Back up on the Eiffel Tower, she stood there smiling, hoping to see him again someday. "Noah Addy; I love you twice." 


	2. Episode 2: Apres Moi

They spoke quietly, constantly making reference to the picture on the screen. "We can't be letting something like this slide." As he spoke the General's hat bobbed up and down then fell down over his face so he was constantly pushing it back up above his eyes. There were many murmurs of conversation.

"But how can we prove it?" Governor Anstey.

"We don't need to; he's a spy, it's his job. It's not like spying is the most _honest_ job on the face of the earth." The sardonic quality in the background of the General's tone had always brought down a monstrous weight down on the Governor's nerves. He pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut, tightly. The General saw but decided to ignore it out of a greater irritation than that of the Governor's. "Go to hell Anstey; I don't care about your problems with me, you know that I'm right; don't deny it you pretentious prick." Governor Anstey smirked at him with a smug ostentatious snarl.

"Now, now, children calm down; there is no reason for this damn foolery. We have business to contend to so shut up and participate or leave." The president strode back in forth in front of the table that all the members sat and spoke. The tensions grew more and more overwrought as they tried to compile appropriate, and feasible, ways to dispose of their_ nuisance_.

Had it merely taken an hour later, the men had created a suitable way to deal with him. "Yes; that is it. We'll make him _beg_ that's beautiful.

"It's almost poetic justice; 'an eye for an eye' sort of occurrence."

…

Noah rushed away from the Eiffel Tower as quickly as possible. Along the way he saw a jacket that had just been carelessly tossed aside; he grabbed it and slide into it to try and turn attention away from him. Unbeknownst to the others around him, his silenced pistol clanked against his belt buckle. A noise that he became all too aware of. He grabbed at the area where they met and tried to muffle the clinking noise thinking that they could here.

It was this line of thinking that made him a master spy. He was never willing to let the littlest indiscretions go; this although may have been the reason behind his current situation. "I gotta get back to the hotel." Police cars drove by blaring their sirens all headed toward the Eiffel Tower. Noah couldn't believe the turnout of the police to this; it was almost mind boggling. He continued, nonetheless, to the hotel so that he could begin his packing. He had to get out of here.

Moments later he approached the hotel.

"_Sir vous avez un visitora_." The doorman said as Noah passed into the spinning door entrance. _A visitor_? _Who the hell knows that I'm here_? Noah asked himself perplexed. He didn't know whether or not to risk going up there to see who had decided to pay him a visit. He hopped into the elevator and pressed the floor that contained his room. The ride was a solemn and empty one; nothing could have felt worse. He'd left her standing up there all alone, _would she be alright_? He didn't know; how could he. This was the thing he'd always feared when he was a spy that he'd fall for one of his targets. He had to be put into the mindset of who he was constantly purveying and sometimes, when you watch somebody for too long, you begin to consummate feelings for them.

_That_ is exactly what had ended up happening. He fell for her, **hard**. It was an enormous problem but he'd done all he could to make sure they never found him, nor would think to look for him. He faked his own death. This new identity, Noah Addy, was just a pencil pusher; a desk jockey. He was an average Joe, instead of being a spy with amazing fighting ability and hunger to kill his prey. To mask this truth he created this façade, a glasses wearing tour giver. The absolute opposite of who he was and who he'd ever _want _to be. But he gave it all up for her and retired.

The elevator finally reached his floor and the door opened. As he walked out he had this overwhelming feel of fear. As if something, someone was near. Something, someone, he didn't want to see again. _Ever_.

He walked getting closer and closer to his room; he had also removed his pistol just in case. The feeling was still hanging over, ominously, just waiting to strike upon him. He grabbed hold of the doorknob and, very slowly, turned it then opened it. He held his weapon to the door so as to not alert anyone who may be inside. After opening the door about a third of the way and noticed that nobody was really inside nor anywhere close, he opened it all the way. Was it paranoia that had overcome him? Just that incisive over examination ability of his? But the doorman had said somebody was there… and yet nobody.

"Hmm, _intéressant_." His murmur, unwittingly, alerted the man who had been awaiting him in secrecy in his apartment. The intruder, with a deep roar, bounded the corner and thrust a knife towards him. Noah put his hands up and blocked it, sticking the knife into the door. But in doing this he gave the intruder the opportunity to grab hold of his gun. Noah wasn't stupid though, so before he could have the chance to use it Noah slammed him against the wall and forced him to relinquish it. "Percy!" he shouted and threw Noah across the room. Noah slid and hit the coffee table knocking it onto its side while at the same time breaking a leg off. The man was huge and bulking, with muscles that could be double Noah's own. Noah had only met him once, many years ago.

Noah was on a mission to eliminate the leader of a drug cartel in Puerto Rico and while there he'd incurred the wrath of the Kingpin's monstrous, and psychotic, son. The only problem was that Emilio, the son, now looked bigger than he did the whole 3 years ago that he completed that assignment and retired.

"_Usted va a morir por lo que hiciste a mi padre_!" He lifted his leg and prepared to smash it upon Noah's head. Noah grabbed that broken leg and hit Emilio in the crotch with it. He grabbed his crotch then retreated slightly back, in pain. Noah smacked him in the head with it then brought it across his face, hard. After that he tried to get out the door but Noah grabbed hold of his hair and thrust his face into the wall, breaking his nose. Blood dripped from the wall and Emilio was now in severe enough pain that he started to whimper.

"Who sent you? Was it the Cartel?" Noah grabbed up his gun from the floor and brought it to his head. He didn't answer. He cocked the gun then pushed it harder into his temple.

"I'm not playing around dammit." He didn't budge still. Nearly on his breaking point, Noah pushed the gun into Emilio's shoulder and pulled the trigger. He fell to the ground in more pain then he'd known, _ever_. "_Maldito seas_!"

"Yeah, yeah, damn me; I get that a lot. Tell me who sent you!" He put the silenced barrel right into the wound and moved it around. A shriek erupted from his mouth before biting on his hand. "Your father showed you never to give signs that make your captor know they're winning. I'm not surprised but you're not as strong as he is; maybe physically but not _mentally_." He tapped Emilio in the head with the barrel. "_Una ùltima vez_: who sent you?" His voice was so calm and controlled that it freaked him out. He didn't know how a killer, a supposed lifeless man could speak so calmly but with such emotion. 

Emilio broke, "_El gobierno, el Gobierno Americano_." Noah sighed… and pulled the trigger.

Noah took a seat at the desk that was in the room and began to etch an outline for a message he was going to write to Aurora.

_Je t'aime… Non… it's too late; Death wait's for n man… be afraid… secrets reside below the surface… the lies in the preface… abstain delusion; perversion, aversion, confusion, allusion… je t'aime Mon Cerie…_

_Noah Addy_

_Apres moi le deluge… C'est la guerre_

Aurora read the message and the last sentence just rang in her head as loud as — no louder than the bells of _Notre Dame_. "_Apres moi le deluge_." _After me comes the flood_.


	3. Episode 3: Heros

_Apres moi le deluge_: after me comes the flood. Technically, after me comes flood. But she knew what he what he meant… or at least she thought she did.

"_Apres moi le deluge… c'est le guerre_," she repeated the words written upon the paper. The slightly drooped out of her mouth hearing them repeated in her ears but never fully grasping their undertone, their true meaning. She then looked over the name that was printed at the bottom of the note, Noah Addy, the man she loved. She hadn't seen him since he revealed himself to her. She didn't really know what to do when he told her so when he asked for her to join him and leave everything behind, she had to refuse. What could she do? He lived a life of constant motion; she lived a life of constant sedation. She'd lived in Paris her whole life; she didn't want to be anywhere else. Why when she lived in the most beautiful city in the world?

Aurora was born to Alphonse and Odette Babineaux. Alphonse was a American born Frenchman; his parents moved to France during the late 1940's and had Alphonse. Al wasn't quite satisfied by the sedative life style and moved the United States in the '70's and ended up joining the army and participating in the Vietnam War. Upon returning home and witnessing the terrible state his country was in, he moved to France and met Odette Lefévré.

Odette was born in Toulouse, so it could be said that her name is quite true; she had spent much of her time near the_ Garonne_, an enormous that spans the better half of the country. Odette always yearned to move to Paris and live like they do, in beautiful harmony; as she saw it. But due to lack of money and her parents' frailty her plans were unfortunately postponed. Just as unfortunately her parents died shortly after her 23rd birthday. With the death of both her parents simultaneously she was thrown into a spiraling depression that consumed her for many months. Finally, after about five and a half months of binge drinking and crying she left with the money her parents left her then moved to Paris… and met Alphonse Babineaux.

Then on October 23rd, 1980, Aurora Odette Babineaux was born.

Aurora sat in that chair and repeated the lines of a song that her father always used to sing when things were troubled, "Bien que rien, nous gardera ensemble. Nous pourrions du temps, juste pour un jour. Nous pouvons être des héros, pour toujours et à jamais." After repeating the lyrics she suddenly got an idea; she grabbed hold of a piece of paper and put the lyrics upon the page.

She had decided that if anything could help surmise her words it would be those words there.

After repeating the letter in her head she realized it was almost complete she just had to sign it. She signed it as,

_Vous êtes mon héros, Noah Addy_

_Je t'aime… toujours et à jamais_

_Aurora Babineaux _

XxOo

She kissed it and left the imprint of her lipstick on there too. She carefully slid it into her mailbox outside making sure no one was around. Then returned to her room.

…

Two days after Noah killed Emilio. "Sir I've just received news—."

"I _know_!" He barked at Governor Anstey. Anstey stepped back a bit and looked at the President in utter shock; he'd never known him to become so _volatile_. But it's easy to see he had reason to be volatile, his plan had already started backfiring. _How could this be_? He thought, he held his head up with his arm on his spinning chair. The room was dark, very dark; the only thing that created even a scarcity of light would be the President's shiny eyes. Anstey tracked the view of his eyes onto a patch on the wall; something was on the wall that he couldn't make out. He wanted to query on what it was, but feared words were better left unsaid.

"Are you still _here_?" He hissed and Anstey retreated.

"I know you're out there Leto; I know what you know. You've treaded on very dangerous grounds, and I fill find you… and end you."

Noah read the lyrics on the page and immediately pegged it as _Heroes_ by David Bowie. He chuckled to himself; but in an underlying feeling he knew it was wrong to pull her into this world. He didn't want to live in this world anymore but somehow… they always will find you. "'_El Gobierno Americano'_," he repeated what Emilio uttered right before he died. _But why_? This damned question plagued him like a fly that you can neither find nor kill. There was no way to prove what he said was true; he couldn't risk contacting them or anyway connecting him with them on the off chance what he said turned out true.

"Ignacio!" He bellowed and grabbed his phone. Flipping through his contacts (many of which were all from his _former_ life) and attempted to contact Ignacio. Ignacio is an informant and mole that Noah used to use to obtain whatever information that Ignacio could extract on whoever the target was. And Ignacio was _damn good_! He'd never let Noah down yet.

"Hey Ignacio it's—."

"Oh my God!—I can't believe it's you where you been man, I haven't heard from ya in some ought years, I feared you dead man."

"I gave up that life Ignacio; I was done with it after the Cartel." Ignacio waited for him to continue on.

"I need you to help me with something, I'm under the impression that they're after me Ignacio; but this is only coming from the ranting of a dead man."

"Why do you think they're after you—?"

"Emilio attacked me and tried to kill me and before he died he pegged them, so I need to know if it's truth or if he just attempted to pull himself out of the s—t hole that he worked himself into."

"Got it; be sure to be careful if they are after you then you're not safe anywhere. And Emilio sure as hell won't be the first or last of them, I promise you that.

"I can talk to my people and see if I can fix you up with some weapons, if you want?" Noah laughed, "Thank you Ignacio, my old pal; I hope to see you soon."

"You're welcome—and I too my friend." Noah hung up and went back to the letter. When suddenly there was a knock at the door. Three sharp raps at the door prompted Noah to the door. He opened the door and found no one; no one but a box. He stared strangely at the box; he didn't know what to make of it. Feeling slightly irresolute about bringing the box in but in a fit of weakness he did. He put it gently on the table then went back to his desk and looked at his phone. "Son of a bitch!" He picked the phone up and threw it at the wall. It shattered in matter of metallic pieces, then it the floor. He rushed over to the broken phone and pieced through the broken phone.

"_Bon sang_," he stirred through the pieces until he found what he was looking for. "A bug; dammit! I knew it; calling Ignacio probably wasn't a good idea."

After that he retired to his chair. "How could I have not realized that sooner?" He sat there in silence reflecting on his sheer stupidity when he heard something that was _misplaced_. He waited a couple moments and awaited the continuity of the noise; it hadn't even showed a semblance of stopping. His eyes shot open and realized what it was: a f—king bomb! He didn't have time to think of any other plan; he jumped out the window he fell quickly towards the ground from his, soon to be obliterated, 6th floor apartment. He fell onto a passing laundry cart. Although a softer fall than the concrete made him feel as if his back were splitting in two. He had, in fact, broken through the bottom of the moderately made cart. He groaned as he was helped up by the friendly doorman.

As soon as he was up the bomb blew, spreading brick and glass all over the street below and going as far as the intersection up the road. "Damn!" Noah took the sudden preoccupation as an opportunity to run. But this was a problem because Noah's back was in bad shape and he'd pretty much bruised every bone in his legs. He bounded down an alleyway with a limp but was met with an unfortunate surprise. Two former fellow agents, Peterson and Trottier.

"Well if it isn't—; would you look who rose from the dead Trottier?" Trot laughed. Noah just glared at them and moved his hand closer and closer to his pistol which being held in his side pocket. "Eh, eh, eh; I wouldn't do that if I were you." Trot opened his jacket and flashed off the side holster that held his signature, .45 ACP. "Dammit Trot put it away. Don't worry—we're not going to hurt you, we're just here to deliver a warning."

"Well go on."

"You'd better relinquish whatever you obtained while on assignment in Bosnia." He thought about it for a second then realized what he was talking about but he was in such sheer shock that he didn't speak, he couldn't his voice had been shrunk to an a quiet squeak. Peterson nodded and the two walked off past him, delivering a note to him as he passed.

The note read, "Dear—, I've recently learned of your treason. I know that is the reason for your sudden leave; and if you wish the best for you and your _love_, it is in best interest that you return that what you've taken, or else things will become very complex and many people will die. Please don't let it come to this, P."

He dropped the note onto the ground and rubbed it into the dirt. He wasn't about to give into his bullying, he's a spy he's been trained to read a lie, and this was an absolute. He had to warn Aurora first thing; he started to walk off towards her house. As he limped he realized it was going to be a very long week.


	4. Episode 4: Loin

Noah walked down the rampant Paris streets making his way along to Aurora's. People were up in arms about the sudden explosion and wanted answers. Noah would've been the only one who could give them those answers; since it was his apartment that blew. His gait was hampered by the possibly broken leg he'd sustained from the fall out of the apartment.

Again his gun clanked against his belt buckle. But no one was going to pay attention to that sound right now. "I'm coming Aurora." He kept telling himself this so that he could keep going. His leg, with every step, sent greater twinges of pain throughout his whole body. He wore a grimace of utter pain with every step. No matter of convincing was going to take the pain away until he finally got to Aurora's. Police cars zoomed by, sirens blaring, lights blinking; he felt déjà vu over come him.

He shook his head then grabbed at his leg. "What could he possibly want with it?" He asked himself, all the while avoiding the succession of answers that could possibly fulfill the requirements of the question. After several blocks of walking he finally found himself standing upon the steps of Aurora's apartment, hitting the buzzer obnoxiously until she answered. "_Oui_?" she answered.

"_C'est moi, _Noah. _Puis-je venir_?"

She yelped excitedly, "_Bien sûr, ma chère_!" She buzzed him up. He smiled and sighed, he felt maybe he'd found some sort of relief, a sort of safe haven. He limped his way to the elevator and hit her floor and eased into the side of the elevator and waited. Thoughts ran through his head as he tried to piece together the events of the last three days or so. Was this some sort of elaborate plan to pull him out of retirement? Or something far more sinister? Questions he had no way of answering for the time being. Questions he _feared_ the answers to.

Before finally reaching Aurora's floor the elevator stopped at a current floor and picked up the single inhabitant of that floor. They exchanged smiles and he wadded in and pressed his floor. It was the same one though. Paranoia set in, as would be proper for someone who had their apartment recently blown up and stalked by government officials.

Noah found his hand upon his right leg inching carefully toward his gun but not producing it, just resting it near. The man remained blissfully unaware of the ominous movement of his elevator mate. "Nice day, huh?"

"_Oui_."

"Oh, you speak French? Sorry, it's just you looked American."

"_Non_." The other man chuckled, "_Mes excuses_." He said in very sloppy French. _Probably just a dumb tourist here to visit an older relative or some s—t_, he thought, _no need to get so bent out of shape_. He moved his hand away from the gun. "You probably shouldn't do that." His words hung in the air as the elevator came to a stop. "_Excusez-moi_?" And he hit the stop button of the elevator and it stopped, unable to run 'til the button is pressed again.

"Drop the innocent bystander act—, it ain't working." He removed his hand from area of the gun and eyed him suspiciously, "Lemme guess, P sent you?"

He nodded and removed another letter, "And he's pissed. You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, just return the stuff and everything'll be peachy-keen." Noah shook his head unwilling to believe this. "Is this some sort of goddamned conspiracy?" Noah spat at him. "If only," he chortled, "it's far worse my friend. Far, far worse."

"I'm just trying to help you out with this by giving you advice: return it; I don't care what it is or why it's important but return the damned thing, for everyone's sake."

"Lemme get this straight, _he _hasn't told any of you either?" He smiled and licked his lips, "That doesn't matter, cause I'm willing to bet all my money that… neither do you." Noah smirked and hit the button, "That doesn't matter; because it ain't happening." The man grabbed at Noah's hands but Noah was faster and grabbed hold of his head and smashed it into the panel, leaving a bloody print. He bent down to meet the gaze of the man, "Don't try that s—t again; tell P that I don't have whatever the hell it is he wants, and you can make _bank_ on that." He glared at the man then left. He spit a bunch of bloody teeth after him; he paid no mind.

"This is a mistake—get back here! P is going to take her apart piece by goddamned piece!" This struck an indelible thorn in his side; he was pissed. Noah returned to the elevator and removed his gun and placed it, harshly, into his cheek. "You tell P that if he lays one hand her—and I mean even one f—king hand on her, that I will remove every part of his body and mail it to his _mother_! Got it?" He nodded, mockingly, all the while retaining a ceaselessly annoying smile. "Repeat what I said." He shuddered, mockingly. "Repeat it." He said so harshly that had he been anybody else it would've broken them in two. He stuck the gun into his left knee and pulled the trigger; the pain was unbearable for him, he tried to yell but Noah had placed the hand over his mouth keeping him nice and quiet. "Repeat it." He said again, nicer than before. "Go to hell—!" Noah shook his head and placed the gun into his thigh and pulled the trigger again, all the while holding his mouth shut. Blood trickled lightly onto the floor of the elevator; he asked again but refused to repeat it. "Then die." He put the gun against his head, nearly smashing the silenced barrel through. Tears fell out of his eyes and onto Noah's hand. Then something seeped from the mid section of his body and Noah realized it wasn't blood. "You stupid _piss-ant_; you're pathetic, you make this threats and are desperately scared of death. You disgust me." Noah backed away from him and let him fall into his pile of piss and blood.

"Okay, okay, if P lays one hand on her you'll tear him apart and send his body parts to his mother," he said through broken sobs. "Very good, now go to the hospital." He said and hit the button for the bottom floor and watched him make silent sobs until the elevator doors closed up. He was finally back on his path to get to Aurora. He rapped on the door lightly and awaited her greeting; which came after ten seconds. She shrieked and jumped up and down then grabbed onto her love, disinclined to let him go. He returned her love by grabbing hold of her and loving on her, kissing and rubbing his hands up her back. "_Il a été pendant quelque temps_," he said, slightly nervous. "_Oui mon chère_," she said continuing to kiss his face. The smile disappeared from his face as he remembered what that guy had said, "_…P is going to take her apart piece by goddamned piece…"_

He couldn't let anything happen to her, "Aurora… we have to talk." He took her over to the loveseat and they sat. She sat with her legs over each other and placed at an angle, like a proper lady. "Uhm, ha, let's see… how do I put this?"

"What is wrong Noah?" Her accent was terribly heavy and laden upon the words it barely sounded like English. But he loved when she spoke it. He placed his hands over Aurora's and held them while muttering incoherently. "Aurora; _Tu es la vie est en grand danger_, _Je crains que si vous restez près de moi, vous aurez du mal. Je ne veux pas, je mourrais pour toi_." He affectionately told her, she was his life force he couldn't let her get hurt because of him. "I have to leave but I'll come back, I promise. _Je vous promets_." He cradled her head onto his chest and kissed her forehead gently. "No please… I don't… _soins_… I love… I love you Noah." What would he do? How could he leave her? He couldn't put her in danger, not willingly at least; he loved her far too much. "No matter how far; I'll always be in your heart, _je serai dans ton coeur_."

"I know… _oui_ but please Noah, stay; I can be safe… with you." Would they leave her alone if he left to fight them by himself? Could he risk it? Hell no. "_Je vais rester…_. I'll stay, to protect you." She jumped up once again and repeated the same procedure she had done in the doorway. "But you have to abide by my rules; this is no game honey, this is life or death… for both of us." She nodded.

…

The President continued to steam about the incident with Emilio; how could he be so naïve? Of course he could kill Emilio; for God's sake he killed his father. All on his accord; why did he send him to do that job? It was a goddamn mistake. "The letter's been delivered sir," Trottier said as he walked through the door and taking his jacket off. The President's chair didn't face Trot, he didn't care if the letter had been delivered, and he only cared if he gave up the stuff. "How did he react?" His voice was very quiet and almost inaudible. "Interesting to say the least sir, he seemed to recognize what we were talking about but seemed so shocked to even relinquish the name." The President nodded then tapped his fingers upon the arm of his chair. "This is good, very good." Peterson walked in aglow. "We also got his rat, Ignacio; unfortunately this rat wouldn't squeal one goddamn lick of info." He nodded to himself then continued to tap on the arm of the chair, "Well if he doesn't talk… kill him."

"Whatever you say Mr. President." Peterson retreated back to the holding cell of Ignacio. Ignacio was beaten and bloody; his clothes tattered, ripped and appallingly bloodstained. His nose had been broken so many times you couldn't tell if he had ever had one. He wheezed and gasped for breath after one of his lungs had been punctured. He would've gladly welcomed death at this point; he was on the verge as well. "We ready to talk?"

"Go f—k yourself you filthy c—k sucker…" He wheezed. "Sorry it's not going to be that easy; so where do you suppose—is keeping the X?" He found himself in a coughing fit that was so unbearable that he would've rather had his head stuck into a propeller. Ignacio started gasping for breath but due to Peterson's lack of a brain he didn't realize that he was dying. Finally, still struggling to grab one last breath, Ignacio passed from consciousness and into the blissful eternity. "Oh s—t! Someone get in here, we got a guy dying." It was too late; he'd failed in extracting the information they needed.

Peterson found himself in that same cell, and Trot on the outside holding his .45. "Sorry Peterson, you shoulda been more careful." Peterson shook his head, "Don't do it Trot, think of all I've done for—." Trot shot Peterson mid sentence and right between the eyes. He collapsed upon the wall that held the bunk bed up.

"It's taken care of sir." The President nodded, "Good; but it looks as if we'll need a new tact, something more hard hitting." Suddenly that malicious smile lit up the darkness of the room and it caused a sheer terror to run throughout Trot.

"Call Constance…" It took all of Trot's being to not faint, "Are you sure sir, Constance? Isn't that a little dangerous?"

"Oh most definitely which is why it'll work." Trot left to call up Guantanamo Bay, the housing prison of Constance, possibly the most dangerous woman in the world. Noah and Aurora were in for more trouble than they could possibly fathom…


	5. Episode 5: Je Grieve

Trot walked down the hallway to meet with… Constance… he was, quite frankly, frightened. He took a seat in the meeting room that Guantanamo had set up for this recent meeting. Although not completely okay with letting them have her back, they'd had enough of her psychopathic bull s—t, and were glad to relieve themselves of her for them.

Constance wore chains linking pretty much all her limbs together making it rather hard for her to walk. But given how many guards they'd lost because of her, they weren't going to let her walk anywhere without maximum security chains. Four guards had hold of the chains, one for every limb. She also wore a muzzle since she was prone to biting as well. The guards of Guantanamo had set up a party after the release to mark this _glorious_ day!

Constance Kale was 5'4, 135 pounds, with slightly curly red hair; at this moment she wore a standard procedure brown jumpsuit and white Nike's. Her hair, albeit curly, was quite long reaching nearly down to her butt. Her eyes were a very deep and dark green, their ability to pierce even the hardest men's shields with ease. She was sat down across from Trottier who just looked into her piercing eyes, just _wondering_ how someone so beautiful could be so terribly evil. He had never seen her before but he was all too aware of her reputation and name. "Constance, I'm Agent Joshua Trottier; I've been asked by the President of the United States to hire you for a very important job." The guard who was in charge of her right arm took out his keys and stuck it in the lock of the muzzle; he did this so she could answer.

She shook her head from side to side making her hair whip with it. "A job huh?" He nodded, "What kind of job?"

"Uh, gentleman could you please give us a moment?" The guards shook their head, "Look this is strictly confidential United States government _business_, now as an agent of that government I demand that you relinquish her into my hands right now. Now you want to do that don't you? Or would you rather deal with the United States government?" They sighed and systematically unlocked all her chains and retreated from the room in case she blew up.

"Thanks, uhm, Tramp was it?"

"Trottier; but most just call me Trot." She nodded. "We are hoping that you will use your special set of _skills_ to alleviate a certain item from a certain somebody." She artfully produced a cigarette from her left chest pocket and put it gently in her mouth. She quickly realized she didn't have a lighter and threw her gorgeous eyes at Trot and he just as quickly produced a lighter. "Thanks Tramp."

"Uh, Trot. _So_, what do you say? Will you do it?"

"What and who?" He turned his head and scratched a place he'd been meaning to much earlier, "You don't mince words do you? What we need for you to obtain is the Xenochrist, from—." Her face went white then pure red; she knew him, all too well. "—but how? Isn't he dead?" She hesitated and took a huge drag of her cigarette in an attempt to calm down. "No. He faked his own death and ran away with X, we don't know why just yet and in fact that's where you come in." Another long drag of the cig. "_Après moi, le dèluge_." Trot looked at her strangely, was that French he wondered. "Are you absolutely sure he's the one?"

"Yes; he has to be his final mission was in the vicinity of the X and after that he disappeared, so it is him."

"Well I sure as hell hope so because we're not dealing with just any normal person here; he's more dangerous than I am." Trot wanted to query on what she had said but feared it best not to. "I'll do it but it's gonna cost ya." She took the last of her cigarette out and pressed the burning embers onto her tongue, to put it out, then flicked it in the direction of a small gray trash bin. Through one of the many small holes the cigarette made its way in. Trot sighed, "We're preparing to offer you any amount you can possibly fathom."

"Three billion dollars in unmarked bills." Trot got up and pounded upon the door, "One moment I must discuss something with the boss firstly." They opened the door and were surprised to see Trot in one piece after being in there with her for so long. As soon as the door was shut again, the cool drained entirely from her being. She reverted to her little girl counterpart and felt like she were reliving a moment when she was young in which she was afraid a monster lived under her bed. Noah was her monster. She envisioned his face and remembered the things she saw one fateful day many years ago when she was a young assassin.

In her mind she saw the massive bloodshed, little kids screaming and running around trying to find their parents and the flying bullets that were coming from his mini gun. Bodies lay dead on the ground, riddled with holes and bleeding from every single one; she herself was hiding in the midst of the tower that the Cartel owned. The only living person, aside from Emilio, was Constance. She held her knees into her chest and she cried, _real tears_. She hadn't done that in more years than anybody knew. She swore to get revenge for that… that massacre. But now that she could… would she? Could she _kill_ him? She didn't know, she would just have to try.

Her bravery rose up when she saw the little kids dying; "I'll kill this bastard I swear to God, they will be avenged."

Trot walked back in, "Done. You'll get your money on completion of task and the return of the item. Are we clear? If you run you will be apprehended again and put back in here, understand?"

She nodded, "I won't run… not this time." Trot stuck out his hand and, graciously, she grabbed it and the two left. All the while she thought about striking the life out of him but was abound in mystery as to what the hell the Xenochrist was. She would just have to wait until she had gotten it and she would get it… no matter what. "You will die Noah Addy, I will kill you."


End file.
